White Darkness
by kim-onka
Summary: Sakura-centric, though F/S is there too, along with Sakura's depression upon being what she is, reflections upon different strange things, an oxymoron, a bit of a song, and fragments of optics and wave effects. Please Read, Enjoy & Review.


Disclaimer: TRC belongs to CLAMP!

Spoiler warning: Up to chapter 179.

Content warning: You've read the summary... so you have been warned. *hides*

**Enjoy~**

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My name is Sakura.

It's the only name I've ever had, the only name I've been addressed by, the only name I've known as mine. So even though I'm not the real princess Sakura, I'll hold onto it.

Because I have no other.

Because if I'm not Sakura, there's no one I can be.

…Sometimes I wander along the busy streets and slide my eyes over the people, all the people crowded around, and I think of those who used to be my family and friends, how they called me by that name, and smiled and laughed and cared and – and - but it wasn't for me, never, never, it was for her and I – I – was – an i-impostor, a lie, out of place, out of right, and –

- maybe if was kind, if I was really kind and nice and helpful then maybe a bit, just a little bit they did come to like me, m-me, _me_ – but what would that mean?..

This is pointless. There's no way to tell whether I, in any manner, can be _me_ other than _she_ is, a complete, independent, o-own _m-me_.

Perhaps if yes, if I can be _my_self, the only thing I owe it to is that event and this journey, which erased everything that _her_ life had made me be and granted me a chance to become _me_ the way only _I_ can be… and _she_ couldn't. I want to believe in it. I really do.

But sometimes it's very hard to believe in anything, and I flee farther and farther, walk faster and faster but it won't go away and I don't know _where_ to hide.

I feel as if I'm f-fading, v-vanishing, as if I can't b-be anymore, not anymore be a p-person that I was b-before… before I learned the t-truth – and I can't be _her_, a-and I c-can't be _me_, a-and all that is left is the r-role and the m-mission to _save_ – but if _I_ cannot _be_, c-can I _s-save_? H-how?

When I return home – home, how can this place be called _home_? – I see the faces of my new friends and new family, waiting for me, _worrying_ for me. For _me_? I don't know. I don't know how to tell. Kurogane-san and Fai-san never met _her_, so _I_ am the only one they could have in mind; then again how much of _her_ is there in me, and how much of _me.._? How can I ever tell..? H-how..?

And he… Syaoran… the other Syaoran, the _real_ Syaoran…it's exactly because he knew _her_ that he sees _I_ am different – as I t-think – I c-can't ask h-him – but I think he must – must – det-test me. Whoever _I_ may seem to him, if _I_ even exist for him, if he doesn't perceive me as n-nothing but an im-mage of _her_ – how can he be so kind to me? _How_..?

The eyes of Kurogane-san are serious. The eyes of the other Syaoran are concerned. The eyes of Moko-chan are empathetic. The eye of Fai-san – I can't see it. I find myself searching for the sight of his iris among his fair strands, hoping to catch his gaze, to read a note of – sympathy? comfort? care? understanding? - in his expression.

He won't let me.

He hides from me.

I w-want to _hide_, too, hide from ev-verything… M-maybe if I really v-vanished, it w-would f-feel better..?

B-but ev-ven so, for now, it's only when _he_ s-says that _name_, o-or that I am – _I am_ – _his_ princess – that I-I can, just for a little w-while, b-believe in being _m-me_ – then why, w-why won't he even let me m-meet his e-eye – just his _eye_…

I abruptly turn around and walk away, almost running, to my room, escaping all the concern and withdrawn hands and caring eyes and that unbearable silence between us and – and – because it hurts so much, and I cannot, cannot –

- I am nothing, no one, not ever, I have nothing, nothing can ever be mine -

- I don't _want_ but I can't help everything is different and it's painful, painful yet I can't do anything a-and -

N-no, stop, stop, _stop_…

I curl up with my hands around my head, in a desperate attempt to isolate myself from those thoughts, but they're from within me so maybe just silence them, squeeze them into silence and nip them in the bud, as they won't, won't help anyone, they only hurt and they're pointless, _pointless_…

I am afraid of those thoughts, yet no less am I afraid of my dreams.

In my dreams I see the future, but not only. In my dreams, I also see the past. Most usually, past of those I hold dear.

Both the future and the past hurt.

…I remember when I woke up, the screams still ringing in my ears and tearing my heart, that violent awakening with images of wrenched faces and all too familiar eyes set in them flashing on the verges of my vision, those azure eyes but now there's only one, and the screams and pleads and screams and begs and screams and cries echoing in my vacant mind as I stared ahead, hardly noting the wetness on my pillow –

- the subsequent dreams were full of whiteness, of snowy silence overwhelming and stifling everything around, carrying a promise of drifting away from the reality -

- and I think, now I think that's the answer, finally the answer I was looking for, for both of us.

I used to assume we'd fallen into darkness, me and Fai, on our own and alone, each locked in the solitude of denied acceptance of what had happened to us, for that very reason separated and unable to come together, however much – _I_ – wanted – to do _anything_ for him…

…But whenever there is darkness, light can be found, and one who is in darkness waits and hopes and looks and anticipates and _believes_ if only despite oneself –

- and that's not the case.

I don't _want_ to wait, to hope, to look for anything. I want to forg-get ev-veryt-thing… I don't want to think, to feel, to remember, I only want to _escape_… and I _know_ he feels the same.

And so the darkness we are falling into must be one which won't show light, won't deny reality but will be _made_ of reality too crushing to sustain, the way it currently is –

- it must be the white darkness made of light.

Sometimes reality seems like light shining right into your eyes, apparently uniformly white yet consisting of a variety of colours, shades, aspects -

- it can reflect from words, from faces, from choices, partly absorbed by them and feeding them with a part or a few of its bright vitality, yet also exposing their existence against grey monotony -

- it can refract upon entering a person's soul, changing its direction, the prevailing overtone, causing the nature of reality to be felt differently by everyone despite the existence of indisputable facts -

- it can diffract among fingers outstretched in an attempt to cover the vision, or even among the lashes of eyes which squint, unwilling to look, still soon or later it will read you, in one form or another -

- it can disperse into a whole fan of feelings, sights, sensations, depicting its unfathomable complexity to one who tries to analyse its inseparable components to construct a coherent picture of its entity but white light can never be coherent -

- it can scatter into countless events; innumerable experiences for myriads of consciousnesses, even for one mind exhibit multiple sides and facets, astonishing anew, catching on an old cord with a novel note -

- it can polarize into a stream of incidents, gleeful or miserable, or merely tedious, bombarding one being with a series of happy moments, unfortunate mistakes or unvarying hours -

- it can interfere to modify the strength of impacts, of emotions, cumulating them or else weakening by evoking contradictory waves, exposing a heart to a shaky turmoil of opposite sentiments -

- it can all happen and it all was and is happening, but I don't think I can stand it much longer.

After all, reality can also blind; if you are blinded by reality, you are rendered incapable of perceiving anything save for a distant memory of what blinded you.

You are as if in the dark, but you cannot see the light, even if it appears.

You are in the white darkness.

Isn't it what I saw in his eye the other day? In his eye which is growing distant, more than ever, as if staring with difficulty through a fogged window, and so _strange_ in spite of being _his_ eye –

- because he is slipping into it once more, the wintry oblivion I saw in the dreams of his past or maybe these were his dreams, it is taking over his heart, and I won't and can't and wouldn't stop him b-but I – I – I would like to go _with him_…

…into the world of forgetfulness where nothing would be alright, but nothing would be wrong either.

There would be nothing at all.

And so I left and ran and sneaked and knocked and knocked and heard his voice and entered and there he was, sitting on his bed and struggling to focus his gaze on me despite the cold whiteness creeping in his eye a-and –

- he asked me what I wished, what _my_ wish was, I w-wanted to say, I-I didn't know how, hence I only t-took his h-hands and looked at him and saw him ready to offer me c-com-fort, as if there _could_ be any comfort -

- and I don't know, it seems like another dream just now but I think, I - I think I remember how I threw m-my arms around him and h-hug-ged him and _kissed_ him and II c-could-dn't bring myself to c-care for an-nything but instead tried to think of nothing, nothing but the whiteness and the snow, for us -

- t-then there were some w-words – he was saying s-something, _you shouldn't, how, why_ – but I clenched my eyelids and begged and pleaded and wailed and my mind shouted _no, I don't want to know, I don't want to hear, I'm sorry, so sorry, but please let me stay with you… here… in the white darkness, please_ -

- and n-not to hear the w-words, to s-stop them b-because the words _hurt_, j-just to stop the wor-rds I kissed him ag-gain and the whiteness flashed as h-he kissed _me_ t-too -

- a-and then he embraced me and I-I thought, I tried not to but I thought, we are a liar and a lie, and I felt I was slip-ping there, as if finally dis-sappearing from all that _was_ -

- I-I just lay there, I _am_ lying h-here and I refuse, r-refuse, refuse to think a-anym-more, I refuse to f-feel all that hurts so much, I want to s-stay - next to him – h-here – in the darkness -

- the white darkness, and I m-may know it can't and it won't be for-ever b-b-but I don't want to know, don't want to t-think about w-waking up.

Here, for a moment, I am safe.

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__Nothing can move me when I'm fading  
Slowly turning into air  
No one can see me when I'm hiding  
Somewhere beyond reality_

_I'm drifting away to my own landscape  
Floating on the rivers of despair  
And when the world upon my shoulders wears too heavy  
I let it slip away_

_I am safe here  
Inside my white darkness  
Problems don't bother me in here  
All alone here, a world in white darkness  
The one place to where I always will return  
Always will return_

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Author's Note:

Song by Nightingale. Although this isn't exactly how I would imagine a nightingale singing...

Long live optics and wave effects.

Long live the oxymorons! *Waiting for my very own Day of Anticipated Surprises…*

Please support the poor little IB student in her dealings with High Level Physics by reviewing her writings. It _may_ seem disconnected but believe me, the relation is crucial.

Thank you.

_Post Scriptum_

Care to check another part of inspiration, see this wallpaper:

www(dot)animepaper(dot)net(slash)gallery(slash)wallpapers(slash)Tsubasa-Chronicle(slash)item91641

or, better still, this variant of the picture:

fc05(dot)deviantart(dot)net(slash)fs34(slash)i(slash)2008(slash)294(slash)f(slash)4(slash)Beautiful_always__by_KPlady13(dot)jpg

**And let us all love StupidFox!  
**


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